


The Hair

by sideris



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideris/pseuds/sideris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Other people are so wrong about John ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hair

John is not gay - not that he has anything against being gay, it's just that he isn't and never has been. He's never been tempted, not even once, and yet suddenly everyone he meets is casting him sly looks, and assuming that Sherlock's his boyfriend - well, mostly they think that _he's_ Sherlock's boyfriend, but that’s not the point - and they refuse to believe it when he assures them he isn't. Some even put candles on tables to make things more 'romantic' for them when all John wants is to eat, and all Sherlock wants is to do his World's Only Consulting Detective thing. He made _that_ perfectly clear. Thank goodness. At least Sherlock doesn't think John's gay. Well, not any more ...

But the rest of the world has got the two of them all paired up and cosy - John can see it in the knowing smiles he gets from Mycroft, and in Mrs Hudson's proud indulgence - and there has to be a reason for it. John has thought about it, long and hard, and has come to the conclusion that it's the hair. Sherlock's bloody hair. It has to be. It's all floppy and Bohemian. It bounces. Errant strands caress his face, and cling to the curves of his perfect cheek bones. It's _gay _hair, and if Sherlock weren't such an arrogant arse, he'd realize it. It's not even _girly_ hair, for Christ's sake. It's flamboyant, disheveled, effete.__

Or it might be the coat. Well, not so much the coat - which in itself a perfectly manly article of clothing - but the way Sherlock wears it: slightly too big, slightly too long, emphasizing the slender length of him, the physical and emotional fragility that lie just beneath that abrasive, cock-sure exterior.

His hands don't help, either. John has never seen more artistic hands, nor longer, more delicate fingers. And - god help him - he's pretty sure if he were to catch hold of one of Sherlock's wrists, he could easily encompass it with a thumb and forefinger.

Oh dear. Now John is imagining doing just that and he can almost feel Sherlock's skin, cool and smooth, beneath his fingers. He can feel himself adjusting his grip too - just so - until Sherlock's pulse is right under his fingertip, the little blue bump of vein rising and falling - fast, fast, faster - as Sherlock's clear, wide eyes open wider still, surprise written all over his face. John chuckles at that. The great detective, surprised! He wonders how much more surprised Sherlock might be if he reached up and touched that bloody hair of his, that gay bloody hair, and twisted a curl of it around his finger - or better still, grabbed a handful of it at the nape of his neck and pulled on it, down and down, until Sherlock's face was just a breath from his own, their lips almost touching ...

Deep in his pocket, John's phone vibrates. He takes it out, presses the green button.

"John? It's Sherlock. I need you. Now."

John clears his throat and nods.

It's just as well he's not gay.


End file.
